


Tis a secret told to the mouth

by scrollgirl



Category: Smallville
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Episode Tag, Multi, OT3, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrollgirl/pseuds/scrollgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q: What if Clark had stayed for "group movie night" after Lois kissed the Green Arrow? A: Threesome.</p><p>A tag scene for "Hydro" (6x10).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tis a secret told to the mouth

**Author's Note:**

> The first third of this story is a near copy of the first half of [Your Hero](http://archiveofourown.org/works/200483) because it's an AU of an AU.
> 
> I'm posting to get this fic off my hard drive. Call it abandoned.

_A kiss, when all is said, what is it?_   
_A rosy dot placed on the "i" in loving;_   
_'Tis a secret told to the mouth instead of to the ear._   
~ Edmond Rostand, French poet and playwright  


He's kissing Lois. He's kissing _Lois_. She kissed him first, true, but he's definitely kissing her _back_. Her mouth is hot and open against his; her fingers dig into the leather of the Green Arrow costume. Clark can smell her soap, and under that her skin and sweat and excitement. He can hear Lois' heartbeat pounding loud and fast, and Oliver's soft footsteps approaching from the mouth of the alley. 

Clark is kissing Lois. With Oliver standing right there, watching. Which means he should stop now, not deepen the kiss.

It's Lois who breaks their embrace, breaks Clark's hold on her waist, pulling back with a confused frown. "You're, uh..."

"That's a hell of a thank you," says Oliver--and, oh yeah, there's an undercurrent of _pissed off_ in his voice. He flashes Lois a tight smile.

Shocked and caught out, Lois slaps the Green Arrow hard across the face; Clark absorbs the blow as though it were a gentle buss of lips on cheek.

When Jimmy frames him in the camera's viewfinder, Clark speeds off down the alley and around a corner where he collapses against a dirty wall, yanking off hood and shades. He's breathing hard, exhilarated and aroused. He kissed _Lois_.

+++

Back at the clock tower, Clark finds himself reluctant to strip off the Green Arrow costume and return to Clark Kent's ordinary t-shirt and jeans. Under the scent of leather and bowstring wax, there's the faintest hint of Oliver's sweat and cologne and, yes, blood. He hesitates for a moment, casting guilty eyes about the empty loft, then shoves a hand down those leather trousers and grabs hold of his dick. He jerks himself, once, twice, leaning against the doors to Green Arrow's weapons cache and licking his lips for the lingering traces of Lois' strawberry lip gloss. 

On the floor above him is Oliver's bedroom, where he and Lois have sex: athletic and sweaty, or maybe slow and sweet and tender, or playful and teasing. Clark can imagine them having different kinds of sex, depending on their mood. If Lois was feeling smug about getting another front page headline, she'd be on top, riding him, back arched and gorgeous breasts cupped in her hands. If Oliver was working off the adrenalin from a Green Arrow mission, he'd roll her over and start thrusting harder, muscles flexing, while she scratched her nails across his vulnerable, human skin.

Lost in his fantasy, Clark almost doesn't hear the elevator in time. Yanking his hand out of his pants, he super-speeds out of the costume, dumps all the Arrow gear in the hidden room, and blurs into his clothes just before Lois and Oliver come tumbling out of the elevator. They're all over each other, jackets gone, hands under shirts, kissing with tongue and teeth. Lois tugs at Oliver's belt, pulls down his zipper, and--Clark sucks in a sharp breath at the imminent threat of seeing another man's erection.

Oliver spins around fast, pushing Lois behind him, then stops dead at the sight of Clark.

"I'm sorry," Clark blurts out, horrified. He shouldn't be here. "I'm sorry," he says again, for kissing Lois.

" _Clark?_ " Lois' voice goes high and shrill in surprise. "What are you--? Oh, God. Group movie night, _dammit_. I completely forgot you were here."

It shouldn't hurt, it's just Lois being Lois, but Clark can't help flinching. He looks away, balling his hands into fists.

"Clark." Oliver comes up the steps and stands in front of him, close enough that Clark doesn't need super-senses to smell him, smell _Lois_ , and feel the heat emanating from his body. Out of the corner of his eye, Clark can see Oliver's hard cock pushing against the thin material of his boxer-briefs. His mouth goes dry. "Clark, it's okay. I'm not mad."

"Really?" asks Clark, finally meeting his gaze. The other man's mouth is bitten red, his cheeks are flushed, but his eyes are dark and steady and accepting. Like he knows Clark. Like he thinks he's a good person.

Taking a half step closer, Oliver says, "Trust me," and slowly strokes his hand over Clark's throat, down his chest and abdomen, to rest just below his belly button.

Clark gasps, his dick twitching helplessly in his jeans.

"Ollie, what are you _doing_?" Stomping up the stairs, Lois shoves at Oliver, wide-eyed. But she sounds more shocked than angry; her eyes go straight to Clark's crotch, lingering there.

Oliver wraps his other arm around her waist and pulls her in. "Can you honestly tell me you haven't thought about him?" Lois sputters her protests, but Oliver simply bends down and kisses her on the mouth, fierce and hungry, until she's moaning and melting against him.

Clark can't tear his eyes off them, they're so hot together. He should go, he should let them have their privacy, only Oliver's hand has migrated south to cup Clark's erection through his jeans and there's no way he can leave now. He bites back a whimper.

After a torturous minute, Oliver slows and ends the kiss; there's a faint thread of saliva connecting Lois' mouth to his when they part. "I want you to watch us," he tells her, his voice low and hoarse.

He turns to face Clark next and adds, "You can stop me if you want, Clark." His dark eyes search Clark's face for a reaction, for confirmation. Still touching him, stroking him through layers of clothes. "But I really, really hope you won't." His other hand comes up to cup the back of Clark's neck, drawing him into a kiss of his own.

"Oliver," whispers Clark, just before their lips meet. Oliver's mouth is hot and strong, though that strength is an illusion against Clark's own. Still, he can't help sinking into the kiss, giving way to Oliver's invading tongue. He tastes more strawberry lip gloss. His hips jerk when Oliver squeezes his dick. " _Please_."

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Oliver breathes, pulling back just far enough to meet Clark's eyes. "Come upstairs with us, Clark. I want you to." He turns to Lois again, looking for approval, for permission.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my _God_ , this is crazy," Lois half giggles, but she gazes up at Clark with a new desire in her eyes and doesn't resist when Oliver takes her right hand and flattens it against Clark's sternum, his thin cotton t-shirt the only barrier between them. "Smallville? Is this okay?"

Clark tries to answer, but ends up just nodding. His senses are in overdrive. He can hear Lois and Oliver's hearts pounding, blood flowing fast through their arteries. He sees their pupils dilating, smells the hormones pouring from them, all their physiological responses screaming out that, yes, they really do want him.

Lois' hand is small under Oliver's, small against Clark's broad chest. She's biting her lip, hesitating, but then her palm glides down and around his pectoral, Oliver's hand moving with her. "God, you're built. Don't know why you hide behind those plaid shirts all the time, Clark."

"Turns you on, doesn't it, Lois," Oliver whispers. "How strong he is. But you don't even know, you can't even imagine--" He cuts himself off and hides his face in Lois' messy hair, as though fearing he's said too much.

Clark gets distracted from wondering what Oliver means by that when Lois grazes her thumb over his nipple. He groans, low and deep, feeling more turned on than he's ever been. Her eyes flicker up in surprise; then, gently, as though testing him or maybe testing herself, she leans in and bites his nipple through the t-shirt.

He groans again, reaching out to clutch at her hips desperately. He's gone, he's so gone, but he's still careful not to hurt her. " _Lois._ "

"Oh, my God," she murmurs quietly, looking up at him as though seeing him for the very first time. "Clark..."

Oliver's hands lift from where they're resting on Clark's chest and Lois' waist; they fall to his sides as he steps back, an unreadable expression on his face. When he takes another step back, Clark's arm shoots past Lois with a mere suggestion of super-speed. He catches Ollie by the shoulder and says, fiercely, "Oliver, don't you _dare_."

"Yeah, what he said," Lois adds, turning with a frown. "Ollie, hey, come on." She twines her arms around her boyfriend's neck, and his arms go around her waist automatically, naturally. "You started this, Ollie, I don't know why, but you were obviously doing that premonition thing again because this feels... right. You know?" She draws him down into a sweet and earnest kiss, then whispers against his lips, "Don't think for even a second that I'm leaving you behind."

His face softens and he kisses her again, slowly, as though they have all the time in the world. Clark watches them, mesmerised by Oliver's open adoration and Lois' vulnerability. He should feel like an interloper, and yet oddly he doesn't. He feels... honoured. Proud that they trust him with this, trust him with their fragile bodies, their fragile six-month-old relationship, that they want to share this intimacy with him.

"You're amazing, you know that?" Oliver tells her, his forehead resting against hers.

"You better believe it," she shoots back, her voice a bit rough. She tucks her fingers under the hem of his white t-shirt and starts tugging up. Taking a deep breath, knowing this was the point of no return, Clark steps forward to help and together they pull the shirt over Oliver's head.

Lois presses her wet, open mouth against Oliver's naked chest, and they're so beautiful together that Clark has to pause and marvel that he's here, with them. About to have _sex_ with them. He steps in close, brushing Lois' hair to one side and bending down to brush his lips softly against her bared neck.

He peers up at Oliver and finds the other man smiling faintly, Clark's name framed by his lips. An invitation to touch. Clark gently traces along the jut of a clavicle, across the breadth of a well-muscled shoulder, down the swell of a biceps. He skirts the still-healing cut on the other man's arm, the injury that started this whole thing. It must have been a knife, probably a switchblade, wielded by some gangbanger or pimp in a dark Metropolis alley.

Clark pushes down the useless guilt in favour of following Lois and Oliver up the spiral staircase and into the bedroom. He doesn't know what he's doing here with the two of them, but he knows he doesn't want to leave.


End file.
